After the Ball
by Katsuko1978
Summary: PostGluhen. Yohji's having nightmares. Are they visions of his forgotten past? Does his new lover have anything to do with it? And does it really matter?


Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz or any of the characters appearing herein. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Author's Notes: This is another post-Gluhen fic. Nope, not a continuation of _Nobody's Listening_, but another continuing timeline altogether. Again, I'm having trouble with some details of the final episode, notably Yohji's amnesia and subsequent marriage to the bitch that refuses to die, I mean Asuka. So, since I'm a fan or rare pairings, I'm, er, fixing things a little.

**Blah** = dream/remembered dream  
_Blah_ = written/read from screen  
Geal: light (bright) in Irish Gaelic

_** After the Ball**_

Itou Yohji leaned back in his chair, rubbing at the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. It had been his lover's idea for him to start writing down his dreams; it was his own to change a few details and write them into a novel.

The nightmares had started about a year into his and Asuka's marriage. Every night he awoke, soaked with sweat and panting heavily, visions of death and blood fresh in his mind. Far too many times his wife appeared in those visions, dressed differently and wearing her hair in a couple different styles, but it was definitely her. And in his nightmares she had died at _least_ twice.

She knew something was bothering him, but there was no way in hell Yohji was about to tell the woman he loved that he dreamed himself responsible for her death twice-over, one time strangling her himself. His nightmares grew more frequent, sometimes featuring Asuka and three other women, sometimes starring three young men he figured he must have met at some point in his forgotten past; and Asuka grew more distant. He realized they were at an impasse when he came home early one afternoon and caught her in bed with another man.

She justified her actions by saying he wasn't the man she married anymore. He responded by packing his bags, checking into a hotel for a few days, and filing for divorce.

Asuka signed the papers quickly, so the divorce wasn't long and drawn out. Best part in his opinion was _she_ had to pay _him_ alimony. The only thing that continued were the nightmares; now he got some twisted thrill out of watching his ex die over and over again.

He first ran into his lover a few months after he left Asuka. Literally.

Yohji couldn't help but smile at the memory. He'd been browsing through one of the art stores downtown, not really looking to buy but simply admiring the works that adorned the walls. Turning to leave, Yohji was nearly bowled over by a shopper carrying an armload of sketchbooks and charcoals.

"Well, fuck," the younger man grumbled, bending down to pick up the scattered materials. Yohji felt a bit guilty and moved to help. When he looked up to hand the last box to the other man, he felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut.

The first thing he noticed was the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen in recent memory. Very pale brown, so light they appeared more amber or gold, framed by dark thick eyelashes. Those eyes stood out on a very pale face, marred only by a few very faint scars on his right cheek, across the bridge of his nose, and on his chin; he almost thought there might be a scar on the young man's lip (he later found he was correct). His face was framed by light blond hair, chin length with layers cut into it giving it a rather spiky, punk look.

The blonde blinked his pale eyes, then offered a faint smile. "Doomo."

Yohji couldn't help smiling back. "No problem. It was my fault anyway, Mister...?"

"Jei O'Conner. Mister anything's too damned formal," the blonde replied, absently brushing his bangs out of his face. "And I really need to start watching where I'm walking." Jei adjusted his purchases, offered up another small smile, and turned towards the cashier who had been watching the two good-looking men with some interest since they'd each walked in.

And Yohji could understand why she was showing interest in the younger blonde. He was obviously young, no older than mid-twenties, and fit. Following him to the counter, the older man took a good long look at his new acquaintance. He was tall, but shorter than Yohji himself; slender with a narrow waist but definitely not lacking in muscle tone; and graceful, almost catlike in his movements.

And his hair wasn't the only aspect that whispered/screamed 'punk.' That day he was wearing a black wife beater and baggy blue jeans that hung low on his waist. A leather wristband on his left wrist, a pair of motorcycle boots, several earrings that were revealed when the pale man tucked his hair behind one ear and a strange necklace that looked like a small silver dagger suspended from a chain completed the look.

Honestly, he had felt almost jealous that the teenage cashier could openly show her appreciation.

Jei, however, didn't even seem to notice the girl's not-so-subtle flirting. He simply nodded and smiled shyly, then reached into his back pocket to get his wallet when she finally gave up and told him the total.

To this day, Yohji wasn't sure what had possessed him to place his credit card on the counter. "I'll take care of this. Besides, I owe you, ne?"

The cashier's eyes widened slightly before she smiled brightly again and picked up the older man's card, not noticing the curious look Jei was giving him. She finished the transaction quickly, apparently figuring that she was intruding somehow.

"Thanks again..." Jei trailed off, quirking one narrow brow questioningly, picking up his parcels and moving towards the door at a pace that stated he didn't mind the company.

"Itou Yohji." He didn't ask himself why he was telling his name to someone he'd only known for five minutes, nor did he ask why he was loathe to part company.

"Lunch?"

The older man blinked and turned to look at his acquaintance; those amber eyes held a hint of amusement and a warmer smile curled his lips. "You paid for my supplies; the least I can do is offer to buy you lunch or a drink or something."

Yohji shook himself out of the memory, sighing softly. The first pseudo-date had led to a first real date, then to a second and third, and before he knew what was happening he was moving his things from the hotel where he'd stayed since the night he left Asuka and into Jei's studio apartment. They hadn't even slept together before the move, a situation that was remedied quickly. The blonde had jokingly declared it 'christening the bedroom, the living room, the dining area, the study and my studio.'

His nightmares had persisted, however, only now there seemed to be a new wrinkle. Along with Asuka, the three women he didn't recognize and the three young men he still thought he might have known in his past, another group of four began to make frequent appearances. A redhead who smirked and goaded him and his friends(?), a gaijin in glasses who seemed to know others actions before they could be completed, a quiet teenager who made things move without touching them, and Jei... but _not_ Jei.

The Jei in his nightmares was silent at best and a demon in human form at worst. His visible eye was feral, the other either missing or hidden behind an eye patch. The scars on his face were vivid and angry-looking, as if he spent a great deal of time ensuring that they didn't heal. And he had an affinity for knives.

_His_ Jei noticed something was bothering him and asked if he wanted to discuss it. Once again Yohji couldn't bring himself to burden someone he loved deeply with the visions from his sleeping hours, but his lover refused to give up.

"Well," he'd said one afternoon after failing to get Yohji to open up, "have you tried keeping a dream journal?"

"A what?" the older man asked, looking up from the files he was looking over; he was still at the job Asuka had found for him despite the fact he wasn't happy there. Lately he'd mused on the possibility of quitting and living off alimony and what Jei earned for his paintings but always felt guilty for even thinking it.

"Dream journal," Jei repeated, putting down his sketchbook and moving to sit on Yohji's lap. "I keep one. I started after the whole Sally debacle"—the younger blonde never went into much depth about his past, only saying that he'd learned that women couldn't always be trusted and he was much happier with his lover—"and it helps sort my thoughts. You can write down what you see, figure out why it's bugging you at your own pace, and you don't have to show it to anyone else ever."

Yohji didn't think over the suggestion for very long; that very night when he'd awoken from another frightening dream, he went to Jei's studio, located a blank notebook, and wrote down everything he could remember. The exercise soothed him somehow, and he'd returned to bed feeling much calmer and slept peacefully for the remainder of the night.

And now, as he stretched slightly, Yohji glanced over at the journal entry he'd jotted down around midnight. There was something bothering him more than usual; he'd dreamt about Asuka dying at his hands many times over but never about the aftermath....

**Yohji dragged himself into his apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights before closing the door behind him, his youngest teammate's worried voice cut off before he could finish his question. The blonde didn't want to talk about it; Asuka was dead, really dead this time, at his hands. That wasn't something he wanted to even _think_ about right now.**

**In the dark, he pulled off his boots and set them by the door before peeling off his coat and dropping it carelessly on the floor. He crossed the room silently, peeling off gloves, sunglasses, shirt and pants, lost in the absence of any thought but 'murderer, monster, killer.' He had tried to reach her, tried to save her, but she had attacked him, betrayed him, broken his heart in two once more. He shouldn't feel so much guilt... but he did.**

**He didn't remember making it to his bed, but when he opened his eyes sometime later he sensed another presence in the room. The moon was now casting some light into the room, giving him a bit of visibility and revealing that he had a visitor. The other man was seated on the edge of Yohji's bed, not yet noticing that Yohji was awake. One long-fingered hand ran through his dark blonde hair, pausing absently from time to time at the nape of his neck and lightly petting.**

**Yohji shifted slightly, causing the other man to turn to face him. The reclining blonde tensed, recognizing the glimmer of amber eyes in the moonlight. _Eyes?_ Yohji blinked, deciding that it might not be best to be loud with this particular man despite how quiet and surprisingly gentle he was being.**

**"farfarello?"**

**The pale assassin shook his head slightly, bringing his free hand up to place a finger against his own lips. "shh. you're just dreaming. i'm not even here."**

**Yohji frowned, not sure if he should believe the words, then decided that if Farfarello was calm and quiet and _not_ trying to kill him then he must indeed be dreaming. Shaking his head slightly, the older man closed his eyes again and settled back into his bed, trying not to feel soothed by the repetitive petting. After several minutes of silence, he felt warm breath brush his skin for an instant before soft lips pressed to his cheek and a quiet, lilting voice whispered in his ear:**

**"sleep, my geal, and be at peace for a little while."**

**Yohji sighed softly, confused over how vivid this dream was but not caring. Those fingers in his hair were soothing, and he slipped into a deeper sleep.**

There wasn't just one thing that struck him about this particular dream; for one, it was the first time he could remember calling _anyone_ by name other than Asuka. The fact that the name was stuck to the man who looked so much like his Jei made him wonder if his life now was effecting his dreams in some way. Then there was the fact that he'd apparently thought he was just dreaming. His dream self should have been more concerned over the appearance of an enemy in his room; instead he'd accepted the dream Jei—Farfarello—as merely a figment of his mourning exhausted mind and gone right back to sleep. To top it all off was how... familiar the man's fingers had felt running through his hair.

He didn't know exactly when he'd opened the current chapter of his novel and started typing; he only became aware of his actions when Jei's arms slipped around his shoulder and soft pale blonde hair brushed against his cheek.

"Trouble sleeping, Yohtan?" he asked softly, dropping a kiss to the older blonde's shoulder. Yohji settled back with a sigh, raising one hand to gently rub one of his lover's arms.

"A little," he admitted. "Came out to write down a dream then... I guess inspiration must've struck."

Jei chuckled softly, then looked at the screen and started reading aloud: "_Yoichi's eyes fluttered open, his senses detecting another presence in the room. His teammates knew better than to slip in on him in the darkness, knocking before entering his private abode. Green eyes, aided by the silvery moonlight, scanned the room briefly before falling on a form seated on the edge of his bed._" The blonde paused for a moment, gently squeezing Yohji's shoulders before continuing.

"_Yoichi took a deep breath, causing ice blue eyes to fall onto him. He'd never seen both of the orbs before; he, like his team, had been under the impression that the left had been gauged out sometime ago. The redhead blinked at him, not speaking._

"_'Dante?'_

"_The Irishman shook his head slightly, reaching over to brush Yoichi's bangs away from his face. 'Hush, you're dreaming. I'm not even here.'_

"_Yoichi frowned, not sure if he could believe the man but deciding that a calm Dante _must_ be part of his twisted thoughts. Quietly accepting the answer, he closed his eyes and drifted back into real sleep._" Jei rubbed his check against his lover's almost thoughtfully, then turned to smile at the older man. "This was inspired by your dreams? I wonder if I should be jealous."

Yohji heard the teasing note in his voice and lightly smacked his arm. "I only have eyes for you, kitten. Hell, sometimes I wonder what I would do without you." He bit his lip, reaching up to scratch at his own short dark blonde hair before asking, "If I were to get back all my memories someday, would you still love me? Even if I turn out to have been a cop or a killer or something?"

The younger man sighed softly before moving around to sit on Yohji's lap, arms tightening into a firm embrace. "Yohji," he whispered, voice gentle and loving, "I've loved you from the first moment I saw you. Nothing can change that. I only hope that when you get your memories back _you_ still love _me_."

"Jei..." Yohji said softly, hugging his lover to him firmly. "I love you. I don't think I could ever _not_ love you." He could feel Jei smile against his neck, and shivered slightly as the man dropped a kiss to the sensitive skin there.

"I need to get some sleep," he said in his usual purr. "Come to bed?"

"In a few minutes, baby, I just want to finish this chapter." Jei smiles and nodded, ruffling Yohji's hair and lightly caressing the nape of his neck before moving off towards the bedroom. The older man followed his lover with his eyes, feeling frozen in his seat.

Jei had always ruffled his hair gently like that, occasionally petting his neck as he did so. Farfarello in his nightmares had never shown such potential for gentleness until tonight. Yohji turned to stare at the computer screen, slowly coming to a revelation.

Jei's scars were faded to the point where they were non-existent; Farfarello's were vivid, as if he'd cut them anew every morning. Jei's pretty amber eyes were framed by thick dark lashes and showed everything that was in his heart; Farfarello's were feral and empty most of the time, but in tonight's dream they'd been gentle. Jei moved like a dancer, or a cat; Farfarello did likewise.

And the whisper in his dream was given in a voice as soft and gentle as Jei had used only moments ago.

Yohji glanced over at the journal still open beside him, his lover's usual reply to his concerns coming to mind: _I've loved you from the first moment I saw you._

Was that first moment in the art store that day a year ago, or was it five years previously, when Yohji and the three people he knew only from dreams faced off against a quartet that was their equal in skill? When a single amber eye peered out at the world rather than two, was _that_ when the blonde currently drifting back to sleep in the bedroom of their shared apartment had quietly fallen in love?

Yohji smiled to himself and turned to the screen; he realized it didn't matter. Farfarello was something he remembered from his past now, but Jei was his present and future. And he loved the blonde more than life itself.

With a few key strokes, he finished off the chapter: _Dante sat quiet and still for a moment, then leaned over to press a soft kiss to the slumbering man's cheek._

_"sleep, my geal, and be at peace for a little while," he whispered, not knowing that his heartfelt words were heard and would be mused over at a later date. Dante had fallen for Kudou Yoichi the very first moment he'd seen the man across the field of battle; he knew not that someday that love would be returned to him._

Yohji smiled, saved the file and shut off the computer. Jei was waiting for him, and all he wanted right now was to rest in his kitten's arms.

_ **Owari**_


End file.
